


heirloom of the heaviness we've known

by jublis



Series: heirloom [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Arson As A Coping Mechanism, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Rated T for Toph, and they don't want to leave each other behind yet, can be read as pre-slash for sokka/zuko/suki, cause im jewish and it Hits, discussions of imperialism, it's what i was going for, let's talk about aang's generational trauma, set like two weeks after the finale?, they have things to do but they're war children, zuko's everything issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24964642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jublis/pseuds/jublis
Summary: He thought he was so much, Zuko thinks, his eyes never leaving the tapestry. He thought he would be remembered for something great.“When Fire Lord Sozin started the war,” Zuko says, voice surprisingly firm, “he destroyed every piece of history that came before him. He rebuilt the Fire Nation under his image, and by doing that, he rebuilt what qualified as truth. He erased everything he considered weak, everything that could be interpreted as a wrongdoing or a failure. It didn’t fit with his narrative of our country. He thought that by destroying the shame of the past, he’d guarantee the glory of the future. And he was wrong.” Zuko takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to make the same mistake as him.”Or, what it means to make history. Featuring Toph's enthusiasm for destroying property, Aang being allowed to have negative emotions, and Zuko figuring out life.
Relationships: Aang & Toph Beifong & Katara & Sokka & Suki & Zuko, The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: heirloom [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808977
Comments: 94
Kudos: 1303





	heirloom of the heaviness we've known

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is my first work on this fandom, so pls be gentle. sorry it took me so long to get here but i was like 2 when the show aired so ANYWAY
> 
> hope y'all enjoy this! title taken from "heirloom," by sleeping at last, which is absolutely zuko's song. see you at the end notes!

“I’m just saying,” Toph says, “that if we burned this bitch down, no one would give a shit.”

“I’m pretty sure it would be considered arson,” Katara answers, absently braiding little strands of hair on the left side of her head. She doesn’t sound as concerned as she should be.

“And treason,” Sokka adds, barely restraining a grin. Zuko, in turn, has to physically refrain himself from sighing. The hall is dimly lit by spare torches along the walls, and he’s thankful that no one can see the expression on his face—to be fair, Zuko himself isn’t really sure what it is anymore; the lack of sleep is really getting to him, though he’d die before admitting it.

He glances around, just to keep check of the situation he’s found himself in, and definitely not because of the inherent feeling of paranoia he gets from being in this place. Nope. Definitely not that.

It’s easier to be here with his friends around. Zuko isn’t sure if they’ve noticed it, but every time they’re all standing together, he realizes there’s always someone flanking him on all sides, as if to make sure nothing gets to him. Currently, Suki stands guard on his right, where he can see her; even sleep rumpled and off-duty, her posture is straight and her eyes alert, glancing around with practiced poise. Behind him, Aang is leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed and Momo fast asleep on his head.

He keeps blinking repeatedly, telling eye bags under his eyes, and Zuko wants to beg him to _just go the fuck to sleep, Aang, we’ve got this covered,_ but he knows it’s no use. They’ve had this conversation multiple times in the past two weeks, and it always ends the same way. _Reverse card_ , Aang will say, with as much ferocity as he can muster, which is admittedly, not a lot. _I’ll sleep when you do. Which we all know won’t be any time soon._

Zuko isn’t sure what to do with that. Like, sure—they’re _friends_. Of course they are. And friends care about each other. He knows that. But there’s still something about the immensity of friendship that makes him want to crawl out of his own skin, to leave it behind and run like a spooked squirrel toad. Just the way Aang says it so easily— _we know this about you. We know it enough that it’s worth talking about._ And the way Sokka will knock on his bedroom door late at night, smiling tiredly and unsurprised to see Zuko awake, and ask if he wants to raid the kitchen together. Or how Toph will pinch him during meetings that she’d forced her way into to keep him from falling asleep, and how Katara sternly watches him during mealtimes to make sure he’s eating enough. _We know this about you. We know you._

He knows he’s been spiraling since the war ended, since his father—since _Ozai_ , since _Azula_ —but Zuko’s fine. _It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before,_ he wants to tell his friends. _You don’t have to carry it with me. I can do it on my own._

It’s a learned mechanism. Nobody’s supposed to see how much he needs. He has to be functional, and he has to do it on his own. Otherwise, it means nothing. Otherwise, it’s shameful.

The flame he carries on his open hand flickers as soon as he thinks the word. He breathes deep enough that he gets it under control before it goes out entirely, but his heart nearly stops when everyone’s head swivels around to look at him.

“Sorry,” he says, a little breathlessly. “It’s late.”

And no one says anything about it. It makes his chest go tight, though not necessarily in a bad way. He just—he just _faltered_. His fire flickered and almost faded, because he wasn’t strong enough to keep it going regardless of what he thought, and nothing. Sokka yawns pointedly, wide-mouthed, and Katara pretends to gag at the smell of his breath. Suki giggles, and Toph raises her eyebrows at the tapestry in front of her, unimpressed. Aang, Zuko notices, has fallen asleep standing up behind them.

“Yeah, it’s late, because you all are _stalling_ ,” Toph says, putting her hands on her hips. “Come _on_ , you fuckos. Now or never.”

“Toph,” Katara sighs, unwinding the braids with one finger. “Arson. Treason. Destroying of property.”

Toph raises her eyebrows in her general direction. “Is that supposed to be discouraging?” She throws her hands in the air. “It’s like you don’t even know me!”

“I mean, nothing against a little arson,” Suki says, “but I think I’ve already had enough of it to last me a couple lifetimes.”

“So what’s a little more?” Toph says, pouting only a little. “Please? Sparky? Will you let us burn down this ugly ass tapestry of your bitchass ugly father?”

That startles a laugh out of Zuko, and his fire burns brighter, making everything around them glow gold for a moment. The fire is on his left side, so he can’t see it properly, but he knows by Katara’s startled yelp that his flame took on some other color—probably pink or green, sputtering light in the same way it has been doing ever since he and Aang visited the Sun Warriors.

It only happens when he’s happy, he notices. His fire only ever burns for what makes him burn. For years, it was the desire to be what his father—what Ozai—wanted of him. Bright yellow flames, quick to go out, young and flickering, like he was. Then, it was to capture the Avatar, and his fire burned orange and red, angry and fast and _sad_. He hadn’t noticed it at the time, but Uncle did. _It was despairing,_ he said, _to see you that way. Your fire wasn’t there because you burned, Zuko. It was there because you wanted to burn_ something _. And that was the saddest thing of all._

But now, his fire feels _light_ in his hand. It’s not something heavy anymore; it’s not something he has to carry. It’s something else, and though he knows it, he’s afraid to think it. Four letters; two consonants, two vowels. Fire. Hope. _Love_.

Zuko breathes deeply, feeding into the flame, and steps closer, standing next to Toph. The tapestry covers most of the wall on the Eastern wing of the palace, only a few corners away from the room where war meetings were held. The ceiling stands high, helping with the illusion of grandeur, swirls of red and gold and black meeting together to form an image of Fire Lord Ozai, watching over his subjects, a cold smile playing inside his molten gold eyes. The color makes Zuko want to throw up everytime he looks in the mirror, but under his own light, in a place he’s working towards calling home again, the image only makes him sad.

_He thought he was so much,_ Zuko thinks, his eyes never leaving the tapestry. _He thought he would be remembered for something great._

“When Fire Lord Sozin started the war,” Zuko says, voice surprisingly firm, “he destroyed every piece of history that came before him. He rebuilt the Fire Nation under his image, and by doing that, he rebuilt what qualified as truth. He erased everything he considered weak, everything that could be interpreted as a wrongdoing or a failure. It didn’t fit with his narrative of our country. He thought that by destroying the shame of the past, he’d guarantee the glory of the future. And he was _wrong_.” Zuko takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to make the same mistake as him.”

“You don’t want to pretend this never happened,” Katara says softly, her expression soft with sleep and understanding.

“ _Never_ ,” Zuko agrees. “What the Fire Nation did was wrong. So wrong. And I don’t want anyone to ever forget how this happened, and why it happened. Sozin and Azulon and Ozai—they thought we were superior. That the world should be reshaped in our image. It was—”

“It was fucked up,” Sokka concludes. “Imperialism. Ruining everything since day one.” He makes whooshing noises with his mouth, as if imitating the roar of fire, but stops when he realizes they’re all staring at him. Being Sokka, he doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. “Sorry. Was that too soon?”

Zuko sighs, but it sounds affectionate even to his own ears. Again, he is _so_ glad they can’t see him blushing because of the shadows.

“A monument is not the only way to tell history,” Aang says suddenly, startling Sokka so badly that his screech makes Zuko’s ears ring.

Zuko turns around to face Aang, because he can’t hear him properly from his left side. Aang’s eye bags are still pronounced, but the determination in his eyes makes him look more awake than normal. His jaw is clenched and his brow furrows in an unfamiliar way, but one that Zuko has been expecting to see ever since they became friends. Anger.

Aang is not an angry person, and he doesn’t hold grudges. But Aang is also a twelve year-old child whose entire culture and people were killed because of this war. If he wasn’t even the least bit furious, Zuko would be worried.

“A monument is not the only way to tell history,” Aang repeats forcefully, crossing his arms. Momo chirps at his tone and scutters away to climb Suki instead. “A monument, a painting, a tapestry—these are always things meant to idolize something. To remember it in good light. And that’s not what we’re doing here,” his voice breaks in the last word, and Katara moves to comfort him, but Aang shakes his head. “ _That’s not what we’re doing here._ Zuko, I know where you’re coming from. But keeping this here won’t help.”

Sokka gasps. “The propaganda!”

“Tui and La, _what_?” Katara asks.

“The _propaganda_ ,” Sokka repeats, turning to face Zuko with a slightly manic glint in his eyes. “When we were still on the run, and we hid out in the Fire Nation, Aang went to this Fire Nation school, right?”

“I’m not even gonna _ask_ ,” Zuko says.

“It was a dumb idea,” Toph adds.

“Stupid idea. Completely fucking insane,” Sokka agrees, on a roll. “But he told us what the kids were being taught in school, yeah? Propaganda. Fire Nation propaganda. Our nation can do no wrong, our leaders shine in Agni’s eye, we are conquering everyone else for their own good, yadda-yadda-yadda. That, for a hundred years. So that’s all people knew in the end. You said Sozin destroyed the history that came before him, right? And he made new history. And people _remembered_.”

Something clicks in Zuko’s head. “So we teach them,” he says, slowly. “A reform in the curriculums all around the Fire Nation and the Colonies. A way to remember what happened without honoring it. A way to keep the memory of it alive without glorifying it.”

Sokka laughs loudly, a little sleep-drunk, and Zuko can’t help but smile back. Suki intertwines her arm with his, and he can feel her own grin against his shoulder.

He looks back at Aang, whose expression is still troubled, but not so tense. “What do you think?”, he asks, as gently as he can.

“Yeah,” Aang says, a little strained. “I think—yeah.” He groans, and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes it’s really, really hard.”

His voice breaks again, and this time he doesn’t stop Katara from enveloping him in a hug. The hall is silent for a few moments, with only Aang’s silent crying echoing around them. Zuko isn’t usually a sympathetic crier, and he loathes to cry in front of others, but his eyes sting. He thrusts his hand towards the nearest torch to light it, and then kneels in front of Aang, so that they’re the same height. Katara rests her cheek on top of Aang’s head, eyes closed, but Aang’s are wide open. He looks so young.

“Aang,” Zuko says, keeping his voice low, “This will not be forgotten. I swear it on Agni’s light. I swear it on my Uncle’s life. _This will not be forgotten._ History will be made right. And it starts here, with us, okay?”

“Okay,” Aang says, voice tiny. He musters a smile. “Okay.”

Zuko rises to his full height, which he isn’t used to doing, and turns towards Toph. “Miss Bei Fong,” he says, “would you do the honors?”

Toph sniffs, as if considering, but her grin is wild. “Depends,” she says. “The honors of what?”

Zuko reaches for the torch he lit, and holds it out to her. “Let’s burn this bitch down.”

Toph’s smile, if possible, widens. “Giving me fire power is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” she says, and she sounds almost proud. “ _Now_ we’re talking.”

**Author's Note:**

> soooo i hope you liked this! this is decidedly not the last you've seen of me. 
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are appreciated. if you want to yell at me, follow me on twitter @bornfrombeauty . see ya!


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